


The Parting Glass

by hannibal_rises



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, FIx It, M/M, Post BoFA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibal_rises/pseuds/hannibal_rises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill to me the parting glass<br/>And drink a health whate’er befalls<br/>And gently rise and softly call<br/>Good night and joy be to you all </p><p>Bilbo had left Erebor with a pack and a promise that the Dwarfs would be forever welcome on his doorstep. A few years had passed, and not only had no dwarfs stopped upon his door, but his Oak tree had begun to grow.<br/>Meanwhile, in Erebor, A King passes his throne to his eldest Nephew, stepping from his homeland for a new journey. A journey for his mind, and for his love who he had banished in a haze, and never knew the words were withdrawn on Thorin's sickbed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Song of Parting

 

Once again, the sound of music filled the Halls of Durin, the sad, mourning sounds of departure. The King, Thorin the Second, Son of Thrain, son of Thror, was departing shed of gold, crown, only with the armor that would protect him on his journey, the beads in his hair. He knelt down in front of the crowned King in stead, smiling to the stone ground as his nephew blessed his journey.

Fili would make a great King in his stead, though the blonde dwarf store that he would not ascend the throne fully. He would wait for Thorin to return. Thorin to return the dwarf he was before his eyes and mind set on the gold that corrupted him. Thorin was sure that he wasn't still fully free of the sickness, nor was he free of his own guilt. No. He would travel Arda alone to try and clear his mind of it's sickness, and travel to the one he had hurt, the one he lost, the one he still loved.

The song of parting flowed out of the gates after the dwarf. Axe on his shoulder, Ocrist on his hip, Thorin Oakenshield with a freshly trimmed beard, left his homeland willingly. Eyes set on the west.

 

Bilbo sat on the bench at the gate of his hobbit hole, pipe between his lips as he stared at the rolling hills of the Shire and the distant shades of the Blue Mountans. He could hardly dare to look to the East again. The years of traveling to and from the east ached his heart more than he dare admit. The sound of the party drums could reach his pointed ears, a small smile reaching his ears as the Parting Song rang through the air of the Shire, the bachelor party just beginning before the sun even set. The happiness of the shire beneath him filled Bilbo's heart with contentment and loneliness. How his dwarf companions would have enjoyed a hobbit party. But now... now that he had run as the King under the Mountain healed within his halls, now that over a year had passed, Bilbo was almost sure he would never see another dwarf beard again. Not of his friends.

The sound of giggling warned Bilbo of whatever his Nephew was about to do, but the older hobbit simply allowed it as the fauntling left a pile of dirt atop his lap, a flower springing from the crumbling earth on Bilbo's trousers. Bilbo smiled at his nephew, a brow raised at the giggling fauntling. “What is this, my Lad?” He asked, unable to be angry about his trousers. The fauntling knew just when to cheer him up.

“A violet, Unca Bilbo.” Frodo said with a smug smile.

“Yes my Lad. Shall we plant it?”

“Next ta the tree!” Frodo said, pointing up to the baby oak tree that struggled to grow atop Bag End. Naturally, there had been an uproar in the Shire when Bilbo had planted the acorn beneath the earth atop his home. When Frodo asked why he planted it there, Bilbo simply smiled.

 

“A tree needs to grow deep roots, Frodo my Lad. The roots need to seek out water and what they need to live. This acorn? This acorn needs to suck love into it's sapling roots once it begins to grow. That's why I planted it there. It will find that there. Once it is healthy and old enough, I will move it down into my garden.”

 

Bilbo smiled and nodded. “Okay, we can do that.” He said, scooping up the plant, despite not being in his gardening clothes, he figured that the trousers were ruined well enough that he could plant the violet without them.

The pair moved atop the hobbit hole once Frodo had fetched the garden shovel. The warm wind of spring brushed through Bilbo's curls, the sun warming the skin beneath his white shirt. The music down the hill, the sun in the sky, the dirt on his fingers, the smile on Frodo's soft face. For that short moment Bilbo was content. He smiled and hummed as he planted the violet in the earth.

“Unca.” Frodo said, looking up at the older Hobbit. “The broom by the front gate just fell.” He pointed out, the pair looking over to the gate, the broom laying on the path leading to his home.

The pair was silent for a moment. “It seems someone is coming. No tell when. By the gate it means it will be some time from now. By the door it means within weeks, inside the house it means that day. Remember that order, Frodo.” He said with a small smile, tilting his head. “Should another broom fall, let me know my Lad.”

Frodo nodded and grinned, looking back down to the violet. To Frodo, the violet was pretty as it stood next to the growing oak tree, to Bilbo... a mourning flower next to his oak tree was... sobering.

 

Thorin let out a roar as his sword tore through another orc, his heart hammering. He was still running from the pack that had managed to stumble upon him. With a scowl, he knew his only chance was to stop at Beorn's hoping the skin-changer would welcome him again. He ran to the house in the distance, only to encounter the bear before he got near enough. It lept over him and tore the orks chasing him apart. It roared and Thorin took it as an invitation into his home again. The dwarf ran and practically collapsed inside of the gate, breathing hard as he looked upon the home he hadn't seen in nearly a year. The large bees floating calmly through the air, the ponies who greeted him with a nod.

He could see the echos of Bilbo in his memory there. The short hobbit walking through the gardens, a smile on his face, picking up an acorn from beneath a mighty oak. Fleetingly he wondered if the hobbit had planted it yet. If there was an oak tree growing over Bag End. Well... he would see. He would see.

 


	2. Reaching Voices

A storm hammered across middle earth, the summer thunders crashed above in the sky as Thorin struggled his way across the mountains. His eyes were trained Westward and he could feel how close he was getting, though still so far, the worst was over. He squinted against the rain, pushing ever forward.

 

Frodo cried in his bed, the rain splattering over his window pane, the sky dark outside despite being midday mid summer. Bilbo rushed into the room and scooped up the sobbing fauntling, pushing back his curls. “Oh Frodo my lad...” He cooed, humming softly. “ _I saw the light fade from the sky On the wind I heard a sigh As the snowflakes cover my fallen brothers I will say this last goodbye...”_ _Bilbo bagan to sing a song he had been writing since he left Erebor. This song, unlike Edge of Night, Bilbo did not share with Gandalf on their way back to The Shire._

 

_ As Thorin walked through the pitiful excuse for a path, he swore he could hear a voice on the wind, a soft, singing. He knew it was impossible, but the song he had never heard carried through his ears and his heart.  _

 

_“_ _Over hill and under tree_ _Through lands where never light has shone_ _   
_ _By silver streams that run down to the sea_

_Under cloud, beneath the stars_ _   
_ _Over snow one winter’s morn_ _I turn at last to paths that lead home_ _   
_ _And though where the road then takes me_ _I cannot tell_ _   
_ _We came all this way_ _But now comes the day_ _   
_ _To bid you farewell_

_Many places I have been_ _   
_ _Many sorrows I have seen_ _But I don’t regret_ _   
_ _Nor will I forget_ _   
_ _All who took the road with me”_

 

_ Bilbo walked through the market, Frodo running ahead of him and chasing blue butterflies. Something must have died beside the market... after all those butterflies were only seen around something dead. Bilbo had learned that on the road with the dwarfs... “Frodo, slow down.” He called out, unable to see the boy between the hobbits walking through the market. “Frodo!” _

_ Frodo giggled and ran back with a cake in his hands, a small cake that was about the size of Bilbo's palm. “A walnut cake?” Bilbo asked, looking at the boy. It was too early for those... They were for Autumn... and reunions...  _

_ Shaking his head, Bilbo smiled and followed Frodo back to the stall, paying for a few of the walnut cakes and put them into his basket. “Is someone coming to visit you, Mister Bilbo?” The smiling Hobbit asked, making Bilbo blink in surprise.  _

_ Was there? It did seem that someone might... There were many odd signs pointing to it, but he still didn't know who. There had been no letter of warning. “Maybe...” Bilbo said, paying quickly and walking from the stall at haste. He didn't want to raise his hopes that one of his old companions would come and visit.  _

 

_ Thorin hated this. He hated the bright halls of Rivendell, hated the songs the elves sung about him as he was lead in on the back of a far too large horse. “It's good to see you, Thorin.” Elrond's voice came to the disgruntled dwarf's ears as he slid from the back of the horse. “And you seem well. Rivendell welcomes you, and offers you host until you are ready to depart on the last trek to your destination.” The elf said knowingly.  _

_ Thorin simply let out a grunt and tried to ignore the way the Elf looked at him. He would only stay the night. Food and a bed and some supplies to get him to the Shire and he would be fine. Only over night. _

 

_ Overnight had turned to three days, but finally with almost two weeks having passed Thorin found himself heading into the rolling hills of the shire. It was quiet most of the way, queer looking being sent his way, but the closer he got to what he knew was the center of town, he heard music, a small smile forming on his lips. At first, it sounded like two women were arguing, though through song. He didn't know the language, but it was catchy enough.  _

_ A few young fauntlings ran past him, making Thorin pause and blink, not used to seeing children, let alone children that small. He continued his trek, asking one or two hobbits how to reach Bag End before he finally found the familiar round door. What he didn't expect to see though, was a humming Bilbo and a young fauntling dancing in circles surrounded by butterflies. _

 

_ Bilbo didn't hear the broom inside the round door of his home clatter to the floor, nor the footsteps on the path that were heavier than a regular hobbits. No. His focus was fully on the young but strong oak tree as he finished digging it's new home and grabbed it by it's base, plunging it into the hole and covering it's roots. “Frodo, carefully carry that square of grass up to the bare patch on the hill.” Bilbo said, finally looking up at Frodo's gasp. _

_ Two shades of blue eyes locked. “Thorin...” Bilbo breathed out, pain bubbling up in his chest, pain and confusion. Why was Thorin here? A small tug on his shirt brought Bilbo's attention back to the trembling Frodo. “Oh, Frodo my lad... This is Thorin, from my tale. He's the ki-” _

_ “No, I am not the king. I left the throne to Fili. I had more important things to do than sit on the throne.” Thorin said, voice dry from nerves as he watched the hobbit pair.  _

_ Bilbo simply nodded, letting out a soft. “Oh.” The two stared at each other until Frodo tugged on his shirt again. “Oh. Yes, Thorin, this is my nephew Frodo.” Bilbo said, standing and dusting his dirty hands off on his gardening trousers. Thorin stepped through the gate and bowed to Frodo, making the faunting giggle, though still hiding behind his uncle. “Would you... come inside.” Bilbo invited, watching as the once dwarf king nodded.  _

 


End file.
